Night gone Dark
by Tarhiliel
Summary: During The Order of the Phoenix. This is after Harry sees Snape's memories in the Pensieve. In the book we see Harry walking away, but we don't see Snape's reaction after he leaves.


A/N- thanks for the reviews and for telling me the mistakes, I made some changes! thanks thanks thanks :* It's not gonna be one chapter only, I will eventually add more chapters, of other times of his life! Thanks again for reviewing!  
  
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''Amusing man, your father, wasn't he?'' said Snape, shaking Harry so hard that his glasses slipped down his nose.  
  
''I--didn't--''  
  
Snape threw Harry from him with all his might. Harry fell hard onto the dungeon floor.  
  
''You will not repeat what you saw to anybody!'' Snape bellowed.  
  
''No,'' said Harry, getting to his feet as far from Snape as he could, ''No, of course I w--''  
  
''Get out, get out, I don't want to see you in this office ever again!''  
  
And as Harry hurtled toward the door, a jar of dead cockroaches exploded over his head.  
  
-~-~-~-~-  
  
Snape watched the door closing quickly, as Harry ran as far as he could from the office, obviously not wanting to get hit in the head again. He sat down on his uncomfortable chair that had been there forever, and it clearly wasn't important enough for Dumbledore to change it. Yes, he could just make a chair appear, but...he didn't know why he wouldn't.  
  
He looked pale, white face, mouth closed, staring directly at the Pensieve. He knew what he would see if he bent like Harry, a day like all of his days: hell. He knew nothing at that moment but of his memories. He wasn't at Hogwarts anymore, he was just existing, and his head was miles away. If anyone was to come and see him, they would take him for a vampire, for whiter than the moon itself he was, and his black greasy hair was darker than it had ever been.  
  
He could not move. For years he had tried to protect himself from...people. For years he hated those who deserved no hate at all and for years he hid his past. But not anymore, now, the person he most hated, or the image he hated, knew it all. Potter knew his weakness, his worst memory.  
  
Snape closed his eyes, stoping a tear from falling. But it took longer for him to open them as he had expected, for now images came to his mind. His past, it was running like a movie in his head. He wanted to stop it but couldn't, it was one of the times when he just had to accept the fact that those memories still hunted him. It happened very often, this movie in his head. It wasn't a sickness, it was simple and normal behavior for a person with a dark past. It started again, one of the worst day of his life, all over again...  
  
-~-~-~-~-  
  
It was a hot summer day, hotter than it had been for a long time in Hogwarts. The sun wasn't pleasent and the weather wasn't windy as it often was. This day was nearly deadly hot, and that, for Snape, meant hell. He hated sunny days, for outside the school would get crowded and full of laughters, screams of joy, smiles, *James and Sirius*...  
  
It was the middle of the day, and Snape was going to his Defense Against the Dark Arts class, his favorite one. The halls were as full as the outside of the school, but at least he wouldn't feel as hot in his heavy Slytherin robe. His long greasy hair was enough heat to bear.  
  
He walked looking down, at his own feet, that, he thought to himself, were awfully big, and his huge sneakers wouldn't make the situation better. He looked sirious, as always. That was something he hoped would work to keep James off his face, remaining calm and pretending not to care about the world around. It never worked, but Snape had spent enough hours trying to find out what *would* work.  
  
He started to walk faster, realizing that if he wanted to get there earlier he would have to hurry. But someone stopped him. His books fell from his arms when a large strong hand slapped them off. Snape kept looking down, he didn't have to look up, he knew it was James. Sirius' hands were thiner and longer. Snape froze, as he usually did. He didn't fear James, he hated him, and that made him freeze. He wanted to attack him and hit him as hard as he could, make him pay for all the things he had done to him, but he knew James was stronger and faster, and had the whole school at his charge.  
  
He bent down to pick up his books but James kicked them out of his reach.  
  
''Now, now, Snivellus...'' James grinned the last word with a low laugh, ''I suppose you're rushing to DADA again huh? Think you got a future? Think again.'' James pushed Snape really hard, almost making him fall. He didn't do anything else, for him too needed to get to class, and he felt that if a professor sought them it would mean trouble. ''You can't even defend your books Snivellus...what makes you think you can defend yourself against the Dark Arts huh? You're never gonna make it, get it through your thick greasy head!'' He shouted walking in the opposite direction, while most of the people around Snape laughed at him, some pointing at his books, some at him.  
  
Snape glanced at the people around him. A few years ago, he would've been crying, but not now, he had learned that only made things worse, crying, yes, only worse.  
  
He bent down carefully and picked up his first book, the heaviest, it read ''Potions and the Dark Art involving them''. He was weak, so he had to pick up each book at a time. The second book was also really thick and heavy, it read, ''Greatest Masters in DADA''. The last one was a thin, black covered one, it wasn't really a book, it was more of a note book, where Snape would write whatever he was feeling.  
  
He got up, putting his bookbag on his back, holding the books with care, still looking rather numb. He walked faster and faster, trying to make it in time, he never wanted to be late for DADA, never.  
  
When he got to the class, the room was quite full, but not everyone was in there, for his pleasure, he had not been the last. He seat on the first row, as usual. The professor walked in, looking coolly and numb. Snape never liked this teacher, though he loved the subject. It was Professor Malmaniere, an old woman, with thick grey hair, curly, down her shoulders, with eyes black as Snape's hair, though deep and horrifying. She was short and stocky, and a joke to a lot of the students, but not Snape, he knew how it felt to be...different.  
  
''Seat down everyone, seat down!'' She shouted, as she made a rude hand gesture ordering everyone who was still standing to seat quickly. Everyone quickly sat, and she took her wand out.continuing, ''Today we'll begin reviewing last week's notes. I hope you all watched be perform the defense spells and *took* notes. I will ask each of you for a personal note on the spell I choose. Ready?''  
  
The class did not respond, only nodded numbly to the teacher, and that meant that they were as ready as they could get.  
  
''Ok,ok...Severus, could you answer me this...'' She ran her fingers on her wand, looking at the ceiling, trying to think of a question hard enough to embarass Snape in front of the whole class.  
  
Snape looked at her, eyes wide open. He was playing with his pen, uncounciously, tapping it on his desk. A bit of sweat came out from his forehead. ''Answer me this....'' She repeated, now looking directly into his eyes.  
  
''Professor Malmaniere!'' Interrupted a quite good looking witch, entering the room in a rush. She had long, curly hair, a bit darker than the usual blond. Her eyes were blue and soft, and Snape forgot about his class for a second as he saw her. She was a teacher, of that he knew, for he had seen her shouting at students quite often, but he didn't know what she tought, nor if she was any higher than a teacher.  
  
''Yes, Professor Beaute?'' Asked the Professor, quite unhappy with the interruption.  
  
''I wish to speak with Severus Snape. It is an urgent matter.''  
  
-  
  
-  
  
Snape sat in a quite confortable chair, all wooden yet soft. He faced the Professor, that looked rather worried.  
  
''Mr. Snape...'' She started, looking directly at him. ''Your parents....they're..dead.''  
  
-~-~-~-~-  
  
Snape opened his eyes for a second. It had been long since he saw *that* happen again. ''Your parents....they're....dead.'' He whispered to himself, looking as numb as he was after he heard that from Professor Beaute. ''Dead'' He repeated, still not moving nor making any sign of life at all.  
  
''Mother...'' He closed his eyes again, now looking quite hurt. He grabbed a piece of his coat with both of his hands, skeezing it, while whispering again, ''Dead...''  
  
-~-~-~-~-  
  
It was early in the morning, still a bit dark for the hour. There was still a piece of the moon at the sky, and six year old Snape glanced at it, smiling. He got of his bed, trying to leave it as it was when he lay down every night. He could only make a huge ball of covers in the middle of the bed.  
  
''Mother! Mother!'' Little Snape ran through the hallway of his small house, looking at the chairs around him, waiting for a sign of his mom. Snape were blue pijamas, and darker blue socks. His hair was down to his eyes, straight and black. His eyes were a bit blue, but only for the deep blackness of it.  
  
He heard noises in the kitchen, as dishes were being thrown at the floor on purpose. ''Dad?'' He risked, even though he knew his dad wasn't home that early.  
  
''Severus...'' His mother appeared from the door, looking messy and dirty, yet smiling. She had dark, wavy hair, not to long. Her nose was long, yet her face was young and healthy. ''You're up so early, I was mak--...*trying* to make breakfast for us.'' She smiled again.  
  
''When's dad coming home?'' Snape asked, taking his hair off his forehead with his small fingers.  
  
The smile faded away from her face. ''I don't know honey. I *told* you, I never know.''  
  
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End file.
